The Stars Move Still
by caromora
Summary: Sometimes John needs to get away from the future. Cheri Westin wants to get away from the past. For a few moments, they help each other forget.


His mother would kill him if she found out where he was. As far as she knew, he was still in his bedroom sleeping, tucked beneath the covers like a good little boy.

But he wasn't a little boy anymore, and living like they'd been living--always on the run, no chance of connecting with anyone except his mom (and Cameron, but she wasn't human, now was she?)--just didn't cut it.

So he'd sneaked out, found his way to the parking lot of the high school, and immediately cursed himself when he realized how stupid he was for coming there. His one big attempt at freedom, and he'd gone to the same place he spent thirty hours a week.

He was turning to leave when he saw her. She sat in the shadows of the school building, on the grass, her long blonde hair glimmering even in the low light. Cheri Westin.

"Hey. What are you doing here?" He asked once he'd gotten close enough. She watched him walk toward her with wide, wary blue eyes. There was something fragile about her, something broken that he wanted desperately to fix.

She smiled slightly, though she couldn't keep the edge of her lip from trembling. "I just need to get out sometimes."

"Me, too." He gestured to the ground beside her. "Can I?"

She shrugged. "Sit where you want. It's a free country."

He eased himself to the ground, afraid that if he moved too fast or sat too close, she'd bolt like a frightened animal.

They sat in silence for a while. The night grew a bit colder, and the stars got lost behind a bank of smog. John stopped looking at them, depressed. Sometimes it seemed so pointless to fight. One way or another, humans would destroy themselves. If it wasn't by creating Skynet, it could be by any number of other things. War. Pollution.

"So," John said, unable to stand that train of thought any long. "How about that local sports team?"

Cheri's eyebrows scrunched into a V shape. "Hmm?"

"It's a joke. You know, like, 'how about those Yankees,' or 'how about...' Never mind. It was dumb."

"No, it wasn't. Well, okay. Maybe a little." She looked at him and smiled, this time for real.

Their gazes met, and John's mouth went dry. God, she was beautiful.

Beautiful and haunted. Just like that, her smile drooped and the gleam in her eyes faded. John cleared his throat and scrubbed one hand on his jeans.

"Thanks for sitting with me." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed.

"No problem. I needed the company, so really, you're doing me a favor."

"It's just--do you ever feel like no one knows who you really are? Like your true self is hidden beneath all these lies you tell to make other people more comfortable around you?"

_Every day of my life_. "Or the lies you tell to keep other people safe."

Cheri looked at him again. "Yes, exactly."

They fell into silence, but this time the tension was different. John's mind couldn't focus on anything but the girl beside him. He could feel the heat coming off of her, could smell her jasmine and vanilla-scented perfume.

She leaned sideways, her shoulder rubbing lightly against his. And just like that, he was hard.

He shifted, trying to move his jeans without being obvious, but he could tell she realized what was going on. "Maybe I should go," he said, embarrassed. He got to his feet.

Cheri reached up, touched his hand. "Maybe you should stay."

"I...really? Are you sure?"

She leaned back, propping herself on her elbows. The motion tugged her shirt up slightly.

John swallowed at the sight of the pale, slender strip of skin. His heart sped up, like he'd just run a two-minute mile.

She was watching him, her eyes hooded, shadows criss-crossing her face. "Sometimes I just want to forget everything but this second. There's no past to worry about, just..." She trailed off, shook her head. "It's stupid, I guess."

"No past, and no future," John said. "It's not stupid."

He stretched out next to her, every cell of his body sensitive, waiting.

"Right. No past, no future to worry about. Just right now. John?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm cold."

And then she was leaning into him, and then her lips were brushing against his. Her tongue darted out, and he opened his mouth to accept it.

Her hair brushed against his face and the smell of night-blooming flowers overwhelmed him. What was he doing, out here, like this?

"Please," Cheri whispered. "I just want to feel normal for once."

This time, he kissed her, and when his hand crept up and covered her breast, she didn't stop him.

They explored each other's bodies until they were both left gasping.

Cheri rolled back, pulling him so that he was on top of her, and then they were kissing again, and her hand wrapped around him, and it was so hard to breathe. And then he was inside her, and he seemed to stop breathing entirely. His hips were moving, her legs were around him. She whispered his name, and he came.

Afterward, they both lay back against the grass.

"The stars are back out," Cheri said. "I guess the wind blew the smog away."

"I guess so." John looked at the sky. The stars shined down, hard and bright.

He watched in silence as Cheri rearranged her clothes. He wasn't sure what to say, or if he should say anything at all. Somehow thank you didn't seem appropriate.

"I better go." She leaned in, gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "See you in school."

"See you." John watched her leave, watched her long, lithe figure cut through the darkness until he couldn't see her anymore, until she'd disappeared like a phantom and he had to pinch himself to believe she'd been real.

He watched the stars again for a while, wondering if his future really was written somewhere up there.

_What_, he wondered, _will Cheri Weston's future be_? Would she survive Judgment Day? Would she be one of the first to die if he didn't stop Skynet?

He remembered the soft, smooth texture of her stomach, the way her breasts felt beneath his fingers, how her tongue had slipped across his skin. How she'd tasted, and the way she gasped softly when he touched her in certain places.

All of that, just dust, just broken flesh and rotting meat, if the future couldn't be changed, if the stars really were immutable.

The night seemed colder, and he shivered. He'd been gone too long. His mom might have discovered he was missing. Anything could have happened in his absence.

He stood up, brushed himself off, and started the long walk home.


End file.
